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From the review: "Even as the book focuses on the capacities of language—whether in its musicality or in its capability to represent—Harmon’s 'I' is no mere cipher. Personality shines through: Harmon’s novelistic instincts proclaim themselves through tone of voice, humor, and a tinge of insecurity. We may even find this 'I' endearing, as when the speaker proclaims that his 'is a drive-by melancholy,' or when he notes that he wants 'less a sense of space than to exert a reason for my arm’s reach.' One feels for this speaker even as we keep in mind that 'he' is, in this case, two letters—h, e—in the field of language. 'And fuck this conversation with the natural: I can’t outlast the outdoors,' the poet writes, as if to simultaneously undercut and reinforce his project. 'I’m raising a pennant for a brittle self.'”